


The Harrington Problem

by SchmillionPizza



Series: The New Statesman [2]
Category: The New Statesman (TV 1987)
Genre: Bigamist Relationship, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Fake Marriage, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Oedipal Issues, Polyamory, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, triangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchmillionPizza/pseuds/SchmillionPizza
Summary: A continuation of my The New Statesman Series.Ameila is now an established figure within The House of Commons and has become an increasingly complicated figure within Alan’s life.How will things turn out when his prized Tory secretary is offered a permanent job within The Chamber and a young university student appears to take a liking to her?I think we all know.*Oh Dear*FINISHED
Series: The New Statesman [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177505
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Rain poured down like tap water falling through a colander. The drops were large and cold but the slight warmth on the air was a regular reminder that spring was on its way. Jackets and coats would carried by the afternoon long ago shed after lunch when the sun became much more hot. 

Today it was a rainy and cold Spring morning in Westminster, England. Amelia Chesterfield paid her cab fare and stepped out walking into parliament. She always walked as if she were far more important than what she was. Which made people notice her. For better or worse. 

She was a noted figure within the staff of the House of Commons. She had made an appearance once as a stand in court recorder and was scheduled to repeat this task again today. She was biting, but never raised her voice. She was always available for a debate but never reacted emotionally. She was acting upon the most cliched trope of her profession, sleeping with her married boss and not even batting an eye at this adulterous sin. 

It was a complicated matter. Politics were a complicated matter. Emotions and selfish desires were complicated. It was a good thing she was smart. Or she would have given up this world of checks and blanches. Money being exchanged for power, private interests. The seedy and corrupt system that was only available to men, was now being controlled by a woman. This always gave Ameila hope that maybe one day. She too could be seen as a person of worth. Despite her sin. 

She wore a stylish grey tweed coat today. In her right hand she carried a brown ladies briefcase and in her left she had the handle of her tucked umbrella. Every time she was stopped by a guard she presented her government identification. The guards had been more scrutinizing. Sometimes they would report a Labour Party member for doing something as menial as not properly throwing trash away. However, the guards would always smile at her and hand it back once they saw her occupation title.

“MP Secretary: Alan B’Stard - Haltemprice” 

She was also secretary to another MP. Piers Fletcher-Dervish but Alan had convinced the interior administration that Mr.Fletcher-Dervish did not have a large enough majority to warrant the privilege of a secretary. 

She arrived very early. She would always turn the heater on in the tiny antechamber that the three occupied. She then would take the electric kettle into the loo that was attached to the office and filled it with water from the sink to heat it for Alan’s coffee. She then opened the curtains and looked out at Westminster. Sir Steven had moved to the House of Lords and she was finally given a desk in this office. She would sit here and write out an agenda for the day as well as respond to several of Alan’s constituents. With one of the three templates he had approved. All of them kindly saying in one form or another. “I really don’t care about your problems. I am trying to save you from socialism. So just be grateful. You working class pebbles of society.” 

Ameila would lay the letters on his desk for him to sign today if he didn’t have any bribes, assaults, adultery with other secretaries or blackmailing he had on his agenda for today. It was going to be a busy today, regardless. They were going to the floor to debate about the economic crisis and the tight collar of capitalism that we’re keeping so many out of the workforce, on welfare and we’re literally starving because the government gave them so little to live on. 

The Labour Party had several arguments lined up and had a strong case. There was even talk that the front-benchers were taking bribes from them and were going to vote in favor and of a 300,000 pound bailout to assist the working poor in feeding their families there was more tension today in the halls than usual. The fact that Paddy and the Labour Party were so determined to get this passed was evident by their 11th hour meeting and drawing up of what they were going to present today. 

At about 8:00am Piers arrived. 

“ Ah. Good morning, Miss Chesterfield. Are you excited about joining us today?” He said in his usual friendly and warm voice. 

“ I am. I’m a little nervous. I hope they don’t put me in charge of keeping track of be votes. It’s such an important part of the record.” She said. 

She had been offered a permanent spot as a court recorder for the House of Commons but so very much didn’t want to take it because she wanted to be with Alan on his staff. But she knew if she did a good enough job she would be forced to take it. Alan had advised her to do a terrible job so that she could refuse the position and not be pressured to move up. 

But what if she was to count the votes? 

While she was lost in her anxiety a hand came to rest on her shoulder. The shiny square cuff link and matching golden Rolex on it’s wrist squeezed her tiny shoulder softly. 

“ I’d love to know what’s spinning through that lovely head of yours.” That smart-alleck tone with just a dash of upper-crust superiority made everything on her clench. 

It was her boss. Alan B’Stard MP. And the man that she was having an affair with. 

She looked up at him. He was wearing a grey suit with lightest blue pinstripes. A white collared blue dress shirt with a navy tie executed perfectly in a Windsor knot. “ I’m nervous about today.” She said gently putting her hand on his and squeezing it. 

He walked to his desk and sipped the warm coffee that was Amelia had made for him. It was instant but Amelia could make even the most bottom of the barrel instant coffee taste like it had just come out of a luxury boardroom in New York. She truly made the best of their situation. 

He he raised the cup to her to thank her silently and she smiled. 

“ Oh, don’t be. So those rubber-kneed lefties had a slumber party last night. Just means the rest of us who had the common sense to sleep will be more awake and able to tell them that they are quite mad for thinking that throwing money at the poor will somehow make them more stable.” 

She smiled and stood to slip off her coat. She had warmed up finally. She slid off the garment. She wore a Swiss dotted blouse that was tucked into a dark purple pencil skirt. The gold A monogram pin was resting on the collar of her blouse. Two gold triangle studs graced her ears. 

When she turned around to hang her coat up Alan took a long, unashamedly lecherous gaze at her rear. And shook his head in utter disbelief that it could look that delectable. Pursuing his lips in approval doing so. Piers scoffed. “Alan!” 

Ameila turned around immediately. 

“Piers! See I can say names too.” He chuckled in his typical bully-like fashion. 

Ameila went to sit at her desk when a knock came to the door. 

She looked to Alan and he nodded for her to get it. 

She opened it. “Sir Greville! Good Morning” she gave a small curtesy out of forced respect for the gentry. 

“Good Morning, Miss Chesterfield, B’Stard. Fletcher-Dervish. I am here to let Miss Chesterfield know exactly how we’re doing things this morning. It’s very important day in The House of Commons.” Greville came in and sat down at her desk. 

Alan of course was listening. 

“Now. We’re going to have you sit by the dispatch box to record the count today. Our two elderly women that are here to record can’t hear well and our gentlemen that has been with us for 60 years as a recorder can’t see well. So we need you to record the count so they can document...hopefully well. And it turns out a disgruntled band of protesters broke into the public gallery and damaged it extensively. So we’re having to make accommodations again. It’s very important. £300,000.00 Taxpayer pounds is at steak today. But I know that you will not disappoint us.” He smiled and patted her shoulder. 

Alan’s brow raised. And he sat up. “Grevvy. What’s going to happen to those pounds if they don’t win it?..” Alan asked. Turning around to look at him. 

“I’m sure it’ll go back to the treasury. Unless..someone has a better idea of what to do with it.” Greville said before. Walking toward the door. 

He smiled. “Of course...Of course...” he said spinning around a pen in his hand. 

Amelia looked very upset. 

“Sir, I can’t do a terrible job! I’m counting the votes!” 

“You’re recording the count, Darling. It’s a meaningless, thankless job. Like a teacher or...a coal mine elevator operator..” he moved to sit across from her. 

“I’m usually very agreeable with ...what you do, Sir. Because it usually benefits me some how..but If we get caught. Won’t I get fired?” 

“Look..Darling..I need you to mess this up.” He said gently stroking a finger down her arm. “I need you to ....become distracted by the angelic face and..witty remarks of the only handsome backbencher and miscount the recording..” 

“Alan that’s a gross miscarriage of parliament. It’ll slow everything down..if they have to recount everything!” Piers said.

“Well Piers if they slow everything down it’ll give you a chance to catch up on world political events. I won’t spoil it for you but : Hitler dies.” Alan said looking aggravated. 

Ameila didn’t laugh and Alan rolled his eyes. For him to be 300,000 pounds richer he needed to be sure she would be able to stay calm. And he knew one thing that would calm her. 

Alan stood. “Come along, Ammy.” He said opening the door for her. “...You’re far too nervous. We need to ..go for a walk.” 

“When do you expect to be back?” Piers asked. 

“If I’m lucky? 2 minutes, but that’s my current, record.” Alan said walking out the door. 

Parliament was a huge building. It was gigantic to Ameila but Alan knew it as he knew every curve, freckle and blemish of her body. Quite intimately. He lead her to a stairwell . He opened the door for her and closed it , locking it. He smiled walking toward Ameila and kissed her slowly. 

“ Sir knows what’ll make you feel better....” he giggled evily and pressed her back against the wall. 

She whimpered and wrapped her arms around him. 

2 Minutes later...

Alan let out a groan and sighed happily. He had Ameila’s legs on either side of him, he was holding them up. 

“...There now. I felt you tighten up a bit at the end...Did yoooou?...” he formed an evil grin. 

“Yes.” She chuckled. “ I did..Thank you, Sir..” she said squeezing him in an embrace. 

“Mhmhmm..It was no trouble...Feeling more calm now? Think you can do what I need you to do? ...”he asked gently kissing her. She nodded. 

They looked upward as they heard the bell ring out as a signal that voting needed to begin. 

She kissed his cheek. 

He smiled and zipped up unlocking the door. Letting her walk out first and coming out after a few seconds. 

Ameila stood in the que to get into the Common’s chamber. 

Edith Moon and a few of the other secretaries looked at Ameila in the que. 

“I suppose anyone that sits at -her- feet gets a pass into the main chamber. What a disgusting display.” Edith said. 

She, like many others in their government were getting tired of the budget cuts, tax breaks for the rich and overall difficulties that the Prime Minister was proposing to be placed on the working class. They hated how the wealthy, self-egregious and just down right rude Tory faction had seemed to all but take over. 

“...I have a job to do, Edith. But do go on, You are so very good at spreading socialist propaganda. What’s the matter? Did the photocopier run out of ink so you can’t post those ugly little flyers?” She chuckled. Alan perked hearing that insult. Oh, what pride he felt. 

“ A job to do? More like an agenda to further. I’m here waiting on my boss so I can give him a card we all signed thanking him for his service in working tirelessly to help the countrymen that are dying from these budget cuts!” Edith said flicking out a red envelope with Crippen written on it. 

“Oooh a card. I hope there’s money in it. Cause that’s the only reason to ever give someone a a useless bit of cardboard and poorly written heartfelt words of love and...whatever garbage your’e screaming about this week.” The secretaries scoffed and gasped. 

Alan couldn’t resist. He jumped the que and listened. Shoving several people out of the way. 

“I hope those Manolo Blahniks will warm your feet in hell, Ameila Chesterfield.” Edith said. 

“Did you even hear yourself? I wouldn’t need warmth in hell, Genius. Are we a bit tired from our little slumber party we had last night? I’m sure so much got done after the 3 minutes of government business and 6 hours of Frampton Comes Alive and hand-holding.” 

“Well..you -would- know about activities that only last a few minutes.” 

With that Alan was right behind her. 

“Ladies!...Lets not hold up the que with political chatter and things that no one understands, that certainly DO last the appropriate amount of time and that no one ever complains about ever!” Alan said flashing his government ID, Ameila doing the same. 

He chuckled and gave her a few pats on the shoulder laughing. 

“That. Was. Brilliant!” He walked with her. “I knew you could take someone across the coals, Dear but I had no idea you could do it...with such surgical precision. I must take you with me to the smoking room and let you loose on the interns.” He chuckled. He turned to take his seat on the backbench and she went to swear in and sit at her post. She was given a legal pad and a pen to keep track. 

Before the vote would come to pass, each side was given time to present remarks and points to influence votes. 

“Speaker recognizes Mr. Crippen.” Ameila sat and looked at Crippen as he stood. 

“Ladies and gentlemen. For too long this government has taken, taken, taken from the common man.” Crippen’s side rabbled to support him. “ Taken away his healthcare, taken food from his mouth. We are telling the people of Britain that they are too poor to live. We have presented a Bill request to provide government assistance to any family with children a supplement stimulus payment of 2,000 pounds” the right responded in an absolute uproar. “in order to prevent the collapse of our public’s trust in it’s government as well as to stimulate the economy that is on the verge of imploding itself.” 

Alan couldn’t be bothered to really listen after that. He was looking down at Amelia. Staring at her legs that were perfectly folded at the ankle. She casted her green eyes over at him and met his gaze. He flicked his tongue out at her. She smiled and he stood. Waving his hand. Hoping he’d get recognized. 

“ I will yield my time to the representative of Haltemprice.” Crippen said sitting down. 

Ameila’s cheeks flushed when he stood. 

“Mr.Speaker. Our friends across the floor are certainly very very proud of themselves. They certainly think that one all nighter is an achievement. I believe they are exhausted. Very much so that they’ve stopped making sense all together.” A few scoffs resulted from that remark. “We didn’t take away healthcare. We just made it more exclusive. To protect the hard working man that slaves away and pays a hefty tax to supply free benefits to the lazy, the immoral, ...the ugly. But we’re not discussing Mr.Crippen’s secretary.” He smirked. Ameila’s cheeks went pinker. Was he defending her? 

The vote came. Ameila was a great actress. She had always had the ability to plaster a veneer of meek and happy femininity under a scathing, bubbling anger and contempt. She had had to use this her entire life to survive. It’s how she got out of her extremely poor hometown, Trevs university and now here. 

She hadn’t been here for year and she had gotten into so much...evil. 

She was having an affair, helped plan a false tort lawsuit, pushed a few people down some flights of stairs and now? She was committing fraud. She looked up at Alan. 

All for him. 

The man that drugged her, had sex with her. Beat her with a riding crop. Took her virginity and had warped her mind so viciously. She didn’t even bat an eye at him committing murder. 

She turned in her purposely wrong count and bid the pages and speaker a good day and walked out. 

...

She was sipping a small cone of water and reading a newspaper. Alan was finishing up on the floor. 

She heard a stranger’s voice. 

“Lovely day, Yes?” It was a man about her age. His suit was sub-par but his watch wasn’t bad. He wore no cuff links but his shoes weren’t awful. Probably an intern or a temp. Ameila thought. 

“Are you asking me that ironically? Because I love rainy days..” she said gently. She didn’t know who he was so she couldn’t spit poison at him. 

“Robert Harrington. I’m an intern for King’s.” He said. 

“King’s college. What are you studying?” She asked. 

“Public administration. I’d like to be an attorney one day.” Robert said. 

“...I had thought of that but...I wanted to be a background player in politics. You learn more when you talk less.” She chuckled. 

“..That sounds like something Mrs Thatcher would say. She came and spoke to my young conservative club. She’s amazing in person. What are you interning for...Miss?...” 

“Chesterfield. Ameila.” She shook his hand. “I actually work here. I’m an MP Secretary.” 

He looked impressed. “ Wow. I bet you see a lot of interesting things..” 

Ameila nodded. Flashing back to her heavy breathing from the sex she had this morning. She clutched her pearls. “ I..do.” 

Alan came out of the floor chamber and looked around. He saw Ameila talking to a...not completely ugly young man. 

Oh dear. Oh dear ,oh dear. 

He blinked and bit his bottom lip. Looking angry. He adjusted his tie and quickly strode over to them. His very expensive shoes clicking angrily. 

“Ameila. There you are. Shall we go to lunch?” He asked. Using his fake nice voice. He looked over to Robert. 

“Oh. Hello. Sorry. I didn’t see you. Your suit makes you blend in with the wall.” Alan said. Speaking in that upper-crust Tory low key insult tone. 

“Robert this is Alan B’Stard. The House of Commons MP for Haltemprice. And my boss. Mr.B’Stard this is Robert Harrington. An intern from King’s College.” 

Alan ignored his handshake. “King’s then? Legacy?” He asked. Obviously baiting. 

“Oh, Yes, Sir. My mother and father went there , they met there.” Robert said. Ameila knew what he was doing. He was seeing if he was Gentry. 

“How lovely. Perhaps you’ll find your wife -there-.” Alan suggested. Trying to hint at him to stay away from Ameila. 

“...Perhaps.” He casted a gaze at Ameila and handed her his card. “If you’ll both excuse me. I have to be going. Perhaps I’ll see you around?” He asked Ameila before walking down the hall. 

Ameila looked to his card for about two seconds before Alan snatched it out of her hand. 

“....Won’t be needing that now will we?” He tore it in many pieces and threw it away. “I can’t stand old money college boys.” 

“Threatened, Sir?” She asked, smiling. 

“No. No of course not, Darling..You can’t help it that you’re beautiful...sexy.. Any conservative man would be foaming at the mouth to have you. Our little man over there just doesn’t know any better. But you do. Because you know me..”He beeped her nose and chuckled. Putting his hand on the small of her back and leading her out to go have a nice lunch date


	2. Chapter 2

They had actually a meeting with Alan’s good friend Piers Lonsdale, not his co-worker Piers but the financial journalist. Alan had taken to calling him GP which stood for Good Piers. 

This restaurant is as filled with Nuevo-Riche socialites. The air thick with excess, vulgar decadence. 800 Guinea suits. Women there wore shoes that cost more than a decent truck for a coal mine worker. Had bags that rested in their laps that contained bottles of Chanel perfume that was worth more than what schoolteacher made in a week. 

This was the world that Alan B’Stard and Ameila Chesterfield so very badly wanted to be apart of, despite the morally bent figures within it already. Ameila wanted clout with the more political women of this crowd and Alan of course wanted nothing more than money and sex. But those two virtues were the core of the conservative new-money crowd. 

They came to a table to find a dark-haired man reading a newspaper. He put it down when he heard them coming. 

“Alan..You’re looking well. Oh! Well who is this? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.” GP said in that monotone and intimidating tone of his. 

“Ah! Piers Lonsdale, this is Ameila Chesterfield. My secretary.” He said as if he were showing off a fancy new car to someone. 

“It’s a pleasure Mr.Lonsdale. I’ve read several of your publications.” She said. 

GP laughed. Amelia looked to her boss as this laugh was going on for quite a while. He waved a hand indicating this was normal. 

“...A woman....reading a financial periodical. My..Did you pick it up by mistake when browsing for this months Vogue?” He laughed again. 

“No. I actually find your take on the capital gains tax being the match to ignite the watchfires for the Nuevo Riche to be quite insightful. And I actually don’t read fashion magazines because I can actually afford to buy what’s in them.” She smiled sipping her water when the waiter filled it up. 

GP paused and looked to her. 

“....I like this one. She can stay but not talk.” GP said waving his hand. 

They sat. Alan leaned over to talk to GP. 

“So..do you have a place for my....300 horses that are about to come...galloping my way very soon?” Alan grinned. 

“I certainly do. I’ve recently opened a bank that’s actually just a boat that’s currently docked in international waters. Where most things are legal.” Piers said. 

“Excellent. We might have to have a little...bank burning party soon then. Maybe sail it next to a desert island to give sone castaways some false hope.” Alan cackled. 

Amelia raised her hand as if she was in school. 

They both looked to her. 

“...What are you doing?” GP asked. 

“I’m not allowed to speak so I’m raising my hand for permission.” Ameila said plainly. 

“...Fine. What is it?” GP asked. 

“Are you aware of the 1982 United Nations Convention on The Law of The Sea? Almost 100 countries have signed it. And it states that..territorial waters from the shore out to a distance of maybe 19km. Within that zone, all laws of that country apply: the country can build, extract natural resources, and either encourage or forbid sea passage through it just as if it were a parcel of land. So if you were to come across ..say..any oil in the sea away from any shoreline beneath your ...bank you’d be 100% entitled to the profit.” She sipped her water again. 

Alan had been idly petting her knee under the table the entire time. He crept his hand into her skirt when she talked about oil. 

Amelia gasped but smiled closing her eyes and trying not to be obvious. 

“....Where did you come from?” GP asked. 

She raised her hand. 

“....That’s a secret.”

“ An offshore drilling company might also help our ....horses run.” Alan said.

“We’ll look into it.” GP said. Looking up at their waiter. 

Alan of course ordered for her. 

“Bring us your most expensive bottle of Scotch, Two waters and I’ll take...a nicoise salad and the lady will have the same, but with no tomato.” He said. 

He remembered that she hated tomatoes. She smiled. 

...

When they arrived back at parliament they left their coats in the office and quickly trotted back down to the floor. The elevators were always busy. Alan playfully pinched her arm when they where running down the stairs. She let out the most adorable little laugh.

They really did have fun together. Even if that fun was at the expense of the British population. 

They emerged and didn’t know it but Robert Harrington was watching them. “I wasn’t too pushy at lunch was I?” She asked walking beside of him. Robert watched her. She was absolutely captivating. She was petite but she just had this.., way about her. 

“Oh no, Dear. I love watching that brilliant little mind of yours scheme. ...I’m almost proud. You can cook, you can do laundry and you can help your boss commit grand larceny. Get a woman that can do both!” He chuckled deviously and snuck a kiss before they took the corner to get into the main hall to get to the chamber floor. 

So that was it. Fair enough. Robert Harrington enjoyed a challenge.


	3. Chapter 3

2:00am- Back-Bench Conservative Party Meeting Room. 

It was a all night sitting. The Conservative party had to clearly define how they were going to enforce the poll tax. 

Alan was sleeping with his arm around Ameila. Who also sleeping. A door shutting roused them out of their sleep. 

“W-what errection?!” Alan said suddenly, half-awake. 

His colleagues looked back at him. A brow raised. 

“I said -Election-, get a hearing aid you old tossers.” He sneered. 

“Miss Chesterfield would you mind making us some coffee and warming up a kettle for tea as well?” One of the older back-benchers said. 

“Of course.” She stood and walked over to the service table and carried out her task. Still half dazed, Alan leaned over to look once again at Ameila’s rear. Even in her wrinkled skirt she had been wearing for 12 hours, no shoes and was sacked beyond measure. Her bum still looked impeccable. 

“B’Stard...B’STARD!”

“Damnit. What?!” Alan snapped. 

“...What do you think about 6%?” 

“Not as much as 7%” he said bitterly. 

Ameila brought Alan a hot cup of coffee on a saucer. 

“Two sugars?” She nodded. He hummed in approval. 

“Mm you’re so well trained.” He grinned. 

“I say, Miss Chesterfield. Would you mind getting me a cup?”Piers asked. Alan frowned. 

“She’s not - your -secretary, Piers. Go get it yourself.” Alan rudely spat. 

“She was until you had her taken from me.” Piers said. 

“ Because you don’t have the largest Majority, Old Boy. Dear Ammy was spread too thin...” he grinned. 

Piers rolled his eyes and stood up. 

Ameila got up but Alan held onto her arm.   
“And where are you going?..” 

She smiled. “I have to use the ladies room..” she said so absolutely like a well behaved lady. 

“Oh. Do hurry back then..” he said sneaking in a smack to her rear. 

She slipped her shoes on and walked down the hallway. 

After she was done she washed her hands and as she exited. A loud THUD was heard from the hallway. 

All of the MPs and staff ran out to see what had happened. Once Alan heard. “Miss. Chesterfield!!” He literally shoved people over to get to her. 

“Ammy!! Ammy!!” He knelt down to see her. A small part of the ceiling had fallen on her. 

“Sir..” she weakly said. Whimpering. 

“Oh god you’re alive.” Alan said as a few other MPs moved the ceiling plaster off of her. 

An ambulance was called and miraculously. Alan was allowed to go with her in it. He of course slipped the EMTS £1000 each to take them to his hospital. 

He called ahead and said he would give a £4000 bonus to whatever doctor available could attend to his secretary that has been injured. 

Alan shoved an EMT out of the way and pet Ameila’s forehead. “Don’t worry, Dear...We’ll sue the maintenance department for every pence they’ve got. I’ll rake them across the hottest coals for causing you harm..” Alan said. Intent with having Piers issue the petition this evening. There was no time to waste. 

Alan called Sarah from the very, very nice room they would eventually bring Ameila. 

“I thought she was DEAD..I’ve...never felt...” he didn’t know what to say. “....I didn’t know....what to do...” He was exhausted. He was afraid. He just wanted Ameila in his arms, knowing she was okay. 

What was this? What..was happening to him? 

He didn’t have time to process that as they wheeled Ameila in on a wheelchair. He hung up on Sarah and smiled a little at her only being in a wheelchair That had to be a good sign. 

The lucky doctor that would get that “bonus”. Stepped toward him. 

“Your secretary is fine, Sir. She has a hairline fracture in her right arm and some deep contusions on her left leg. She’s lucky it didn’t cause damage to anything else. I put her arm in a brace and gave her some mild pain killers to help her rest. “ The older man said. 

“Thank God...how long will she need to be here?..” Alan asked watching as the nurses out her into her bed. 

“Maybe three days?...Perhaps two if she’s able to function on her own. 

“Alright. Thank you. Now get out.” Alan said, motioning for him to leave. 

“...Will the £4000 pounds be on my next check?..” The Doctor. 

“Certainly..” Alan lied closing the door and locking it. 

He ran to Ameila’s side and hugged her. She whimpered a little and Alan softly whispered sorry as he petted her side. 

“How do you feel, Darling?..” she smiled opening her eyes to look up at him. “...Happy to be alive..” she said gripping his hand. 

He leaned in and kissed her. “...I’m going to sleep here. I’m too tired to drive and The Royce is back in Westminster.” He said petting through her soft auburn hair. 

“Alright, Sir..” she said gently smiling. 

“Don’t worry about any press. I have two security guards outside that door. Armed..” he grinned. Slipping off his shoes. 

“You take such good care of me...” she said as Alan took off his jacket and vest. 

“Of course Darling. You were made just for me. Why wouldn’t I?”he said taking off his dress shirt. 

Her bed was large. Plenty big enough for two. This room was reserved for VIP patients. So everything was a little more here. 

He walked over to her in his boxers and undershirt and slipped in beside her. Bringing her close to him. 

He gently sighed...she was safe. He would ponder on these weird feelings later. Now, he could sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Ameila spent most of her time resting. Alan had ordered Pierce to start drafting a deposition to sue the Maintenance Department of Parliament. He wanted to take them for all they had for their lazy,shoddy, craftsmanship on their repairs to the building. 

He came to see her every day. Telling her how Piers is messing everything up. He has her filing system all out of sorts. And he can’t make coffee or tea or anything as good as she can. How he needed her back. He missed screwing her on his desk. 

She chuckled. “I’d love to but they have to release me, first.” She said. She looked up at him and he pet her hair. “...I need release, Darling...” he smiled. They both chuckled. 

Then a bouquet of blue roses was brought into her. She smiled. “ Could it be from The Tories?” She asked. “I’d say so. Grevvy is awfully embarrassed about what happened.” Alan said as he took the card and his eyes went wide. “To a speedy recovery and hopefully I’ll see you soon.- Sir Robert Harrington.” He didn’t dare read aloud. “What do you know, It’s from Sir Greville and the party.” Alan said, pocketing the card. He was going to have a CHAT with this Harrington-knob. 

She took his hand in her non-braced hand and smiled at him. 

“....I remember you staying with me in that ambulance. It was a great honor to have you there with me..” she said relaxing back into her bed. 

“Mmm of course it was darling..and we don’t need to go telling anyone about that. Yes?” He wrapped a hand around her neck. 

Her room’s phone wrang. He let go of her neck and nodded for her to answer it. 

“...This is Ameila..” she looked shocked. “...Well I believe that’s what it said on the police report ,Yes.” He made a gesture of “ who the hell is it?” She put the phone on speaker. 

“....Yes well. This is Modern Conservative British Woman. We’re a monthly publication that devote ourselves to recognizing important Tory women in parliament.” Ameila looked shocked. “ None of them where available.” She scoffed! “So we’re wondering you would do interview with us concerning your accident and your work as the MP Secretary of the largest majority in the House of Commons?” The voice asked. 

Alan leaped over to speak into the speaker. Climbing ontop of Ameila. 

“Yes! This is Alan B’Stard MP. I’m afraid Ameila is too weak to give any interviews..but I am available to speak about...my dear and loyal secretaries’ harrowing accident.” Alan said trailing a hand up Ameila’s leg. Petting back and forth. 

“Hmm. Could we at least do a shoot of her?” The woman asked. 

“Oh! Yes that would be quite lovely, Shall I tell her to get a new bikini?..” he grinned. 

“No.., a nice dress would be fine..” the woman hung up. And he grinned at her. 

“....Looks like you just became even more worthy of me, Ammy..” he kissed her. Gasping softly, grinding into her aggressively. “Darling it’s been at least 5 days...I’m in such agony...” he groaned out. “Sarah’s been fancying farming laborers again and won’t let me knob her...it’s so hard and it hurts so bad....”

She raised a brow. 

“...You know what I mean...please darling...” he kissed her neck she leaned back and opened her legs. Alan grinned darkly and pushed up her gown and undid his belt. “Oh Sweetness....I can always count on you...making your tight little self available to me...” he took himself out and lowered himself onto her. Groaning. 

1 minute later. 

He exhaled sharply and rolled his eyes to the back of his head.

“Oh Ammy...That was brilliant...It always feels good after a bit of a dry spell...doesn’t it?” he grinned and looked down at her. 

She smiled.”..Of course, Sir...but..If I may ask. What are you going to tell them?..” she put her hands behind her head relaxing. 

“That you snore when you’re tired..” he cackled and then bit at her neck which made her give out a little squeal. 

... 

That night. 

Alan looked at the card Robert had sent Ameila. “Sir Robert...” he put it back in his wallet and rolled his eyes. 

He had to extinguish this...problem. 

He was in bed with Sarah and she crawled over look at the card before he put it away. 

“Oooh...Looks like your little doll has someone else that wants to play with her...Do you think he’ll be able to go longer than 30 seconds? Because I do..” she giggled and kissed his cheek. 

“He won’t get the chance. I have to get rid of him. He’s...not entirely ugly. I mean he’s no Alan B’Stard but who is?” He grinned. 

“What if -she- likes him though?...She can marry him and have a very comfortable life..” Sarah said, trying to scare him. 

“Oh, Darling she won’t she’s completely besotted with me. I’ll get rid of this...Sir Robert Chap before she even figures it out...No one is taking my perfect little Mu-....Angel... away from me.”

Alan said looking at the card. Putting it on his bedside table.

He would need to spoil Ameila a little. She -had- been through a lot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite B’Stard really sinks to a new low in this one kids. 
> 
> TW Gaslighting.

Ameila had been discharged from the hospital and was in her flat getting ready for her first day back at work when her boss just oh so casually let himself in. 

“Hello, Darling!” He said poking his head into her room. 

“..Hello, Sir.” She walked over to him and hugged him kissing his cheek. He gave a firm slap to her rear in response. 

“...I have a surprise for you. You know how you’re a frightfully pale Englishwoman?” He asked. 

She blunk but shrugged. “Yes, but the same could be said for 90 percent of Britain , Sir.” She said logically. 

“..Well. I thought that before your shoot with uh..that..woman’s thing. We could go away together...for the very first time..” he smiled and put his hands into her hair. 

“...Oh...Wow. That’s a big step...are you sure we’re ready?” She asked him. Taking his hand. 

“Yes...My sweet girl, we’re ready. I’ll even do this..” he said moving to his right to remove his wedding ring. Only, it wasn’t coming off. He yanked on it a few times. 

“...I swear this thing is cursed. No matter!! I have prepared for this.” He pulled out a tiny velvet bag. Ameila backed away from him immediately. Already knowing what was inside. 

“No...” she whispered. Putting her good hand on her mouth. 

“Oh, Yes..” he opened it and pulled out a small golden band. Nodding toward her. Eyebrows arching up. 

Ameila started to hyperventilate. A tear came down her cheek. 

“You’re just lucky your left hand is unharmed..” he lifted her hand and forcefully slid it onto her hand. 

“A perfect fit..Oh, Ammy...You look absolutely delectable tonight...but we must save our passions for beautiful Lake Como...Imagine it as...our honeymoon.” Alan grinned. Kissing the tears from her eyes . Knowing this word would send her over the moon. 

She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her cheeks. She was completely blindsided. She had dreamed of this. She knew it would never happen but here it was on her hand. 

She wept gently. Her head going into her hands. 

“Oh...What’s the matter, Sweetheart?” He gently tilted her quivering chin up at him. “Didn’t think I’d ever put one on you did you?”

He guided her to sit with her on her bed. He took both of her hands in his. 

“Oh, Ameila....God created you just for me..he made every part of you..for me... It was in his plan for you to be infertile...” he kissed her lips gently. “...All apart of his plan to give you to me....I’m such a blessed man. I was gifted two women...Because I’m far superior..far BETTER than any regular man. Your purpose with me darling is a pure expression of true...love...” she wondered if he believed that..or if he was just telling her what she wanted to hear. She couldn’t move she was gobsmacked. 

“...Society just isn’t ready to accept many..many of the radical idealistic things I think need to happen in Britain..but you do..Don’t you?...” he held her head in his hands. 

“Yes, Sir...” she said barely above a whisper. 

“...Marvelous...simply wonderful.” He said softly holding her. Careful to not squeeze her braced arm. 

“....So..I’m...I-I...” she whimpered. She was turning into a pile of emotional mush. Alan was actually surprised. He didn’t think she would crack so easily. She must have really wanted this. 

“...Say it. Ameila.” He said he was crouching down over her. Holding her neck in his hands. 

“I....I can’t it...I want to but it just feels wrong..”she said. 

He smiled. “...Well. Perhaps you’re not what I thought you were..” he stood and turned as if he were going to leave. She reached out with her injured hand. “..N-no! No!...I’m..” 

He stopped and walked back taking the hand with the ring on it. 

“I’ll be your second wife...I don’t know how..but I will..” she said..tears falling down her face. 

He smiled widely. “... Thank you, Darling...of course we can’t legally put anything down on paper so it will be an...emotional..spiritual union. You can wear this on a chain under your shirt...so only I can know about it.” She whimpered and cried into his shoulder. “Oh Darling..You have no idea how happy you’ve made me...” he smiled and nuzzled her. 

“...” she hugged him tightly. He kissed her forehead. 

“Go on and pack tonight...I have something I need to take care of..” he pet her face softly. 

“Yes, Sir..” she said sniffling. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Sleep well, my sweet little wife..” he smiled evily and kissed her lips before slipping on his gloves and heading out the door. 

“...Alright....off to King’s College then...” he started his Bentley and drove off towards Strand, London.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Sexual Content.   
> TW Gaslighting

He had a wrapped present with a card on it. He had told the administration office that he was Sir Robert Harrington’s uncle and he had a present for him for doing so well at his internship. 

He walked into his dorm’s lobby and spotted him. “Robert!...Hello! Do you remember me?” He asked holding the present in the crook of his right arm. 

Robert walked over to him. Even in a university jumper he had a smug nobility about him. 

“...Mr.B’Stard, right?” Robert asked in a friendly manner. 

“Yes...Thats right.” Alan smiled, forcefully. 

“...Sure. How can I help you?” Robert asked. 

“...I wanted to give you a little gift...for doing so well at Parliament....Perhaps we could go somewhere more discreet?” He asked using his fake nice voice. 

“Certainly! There a study room right over here.” Robert guided him to it. “Fantastic.” Alan said holding up the box wrapped in green paper. 

He slid it towards Robert. 

“Will this kill me?” Robert asked. 

“No. Where would you get an idea like that? You’ve been listening to those left leaning college professors of yours, Young man.” Alan wagged his gloved finger at him. 

“....If this is about Ameila-“ Alan cut him off. 

“ Open the box. Robert.” He said, wide-eyed. 

Robert opened the box and saw a blue rosette button was within it. That simply said: “ Vote B’Stard.” Robert raised a brow. 

“I’m not sure...what this means?..” he said looking confused. 

“....I had contemplated on shredding those blue roses...and making a lovely potpourri for you...I also considered putting in a dead animal too...but I’ve been pre-occupied lately do so forgive the lack of creativity. “ Alan flicked out his knife and opened the card. Pushing the card he had sent to Ameila in her hospital room. 

“....Do you honestly think you intimidate me?” He asked. Crossing his arms. “...Are you afraid I’ll expose your affair with her?” Robert said scoffing. 

“... No, Dear Robbie..I don’t want there to be any hard feelings against us. Conservative fighting conservative is just want the left wants. You could be very useful to me later on. So...How much do you want to change your internship site?” Alan smiled. 

“...Mr.B’Stard...” 

“Let’s start at £100,000...I bet that would get you a few good suits...catch the eye of some nice college girls..find you that nice little wife here at school.” Alan said smiling. Leaning against the table. 

“No. You cannot make me go away.” Robert said. 

“...£150,000” 

“You are disgusting.” The younger man said. 

“ £250,000.Robbie. Final offer..”Alan said. 

“She may be worth a price tag to you. But to me, She’s priceless. I will not take your filithy money. And I will break this hold you have on her.” Robert said. 

Alan bit his lip. 

“Oh, Dear. Oh Dear, Oh Dear...” he said walking toward him. He grabbed his jumper and pinned him against the wall. “Listen to me...You will NOT. Talk to her...touch her...LOOK at her. I can make your life at parliament VERY difficult. Do you understand?..” Alan asked. His eyes wide with muderous rage.

Robert nodded. 

“Wonderful.” He dropped him and dusted off his hands. “....Lovely campus..” he smiled and took his knife out of the card and pocketed it. 

He was going to have to have him forcefully removed from the building. He had to do we hat he had to do. 

He put the boy at the back of his mind. His focus now on his...honeymoon with his sweet little 2nd wife. He bit his knuckle at that thought. He longed to be in a soft resort bed with her. Holding her close. The softest linen caressing their naked, sore but satisfied private parts. He nearly came on himself before he drove off. 

She was his. This little...symbolic thing he was doing would cement it. Even if he wouldn’t leave her be. She would be completely indoctrinated to him. 

.... 

Ameila couldn’t stop staring at her ring. It was dainty. Like her. It gleamed in the light. 

Alan reached over and brought the back of her ring hand to his lips. 

“...Have you ever been to Italy?..” he asked. 

“ I haven’t. But I do enjoy Italian Architecture and graphic depictions of The Medici’s being murdered.” She chuckled. 

He responded with a grin. “Don’t give me ideas for the Windsors..” 

A Steward asked Alan if they needed anything. 

They were of course flying first class. There were two empty champagne glasses on their arm rests. The Steward asked as he cleared them. 

“No, Mate. We’re fine. Couldn’t be happier..” he said as he tucked a strand of hair behind Ameila’s ear. 

“...Ah. On holiday then, Sir?” He asked smiling. 

“Honeymoon...” he smirked at the other man and they both chuckled. 

... 

Alan chuckled at Ameila carrying her own bag on the way into the villa he had rented. With some assistance from Cecil Parkinson. 

“Darling, you’re not on duty here. Let the help do it for you..” he said lifting her into his arms. She chuckled gently. As the staff brought their bags in and sat them down. 

He gently smiled and walked into the bedroom with her. “You have no idea how happy I am..” Alan said. Falling back onto the bed with her. 

“...I’m...happy too..” she said. Gently moving her face closer to his to kiss him. She knew this was a farce. She knew that it wasn’t real. But she didn’t care. It felt real and right that was all that mattered to her. 

He kissed her a few times before he got up to make sure “the help” was gone. 

He closed the door to their bedroom and started undressing. 

Ameila realized....this would be the first place she’d see him in full daylight, naked. She blushed. Trying not to stare. 

Alan had finally slipped off his khakis when he jumped back in bed with her. 

“....What’s flustering you, Ammy?....” Alan said lifting up her sundress off of her. 

“...You are.” She honestly said. 

“Well, can’t say I’m shocked..” he said chuckling. 

She stared at his seemingly bare chest. He expertly took her bra off in one motion of his hand. 

He kissed her and brought her to lay on-top of him. “....You’re beautiful..” Ameila said. 

Alan smiled. “...Thank you.” He gently kissed her and let a hand rest on her rear. 

“...Sir...can I...see it?” She asked rubbing her nose on his. 

“....Of course, my sweet girl..” he lifted the sheets and pulled down his underwear. “There we are..” he said smirking. She saw that he was fully errect. She gently put her hand around it and stroked him a little. It felt wonderful to finally be completely naked with him. He was so warm and soft..well 98% was anyway. Her smooth legs felt so lovely against the oddly dark leg hair that he had. 

“Yes...Oh, Ammy...” he leaned his head back. Moving his hips foreword repeatedly. “Mmmnn...” he groaned thrusting upward into her hand. 

“Oh, Sir it’s so magnificent...it’s so powerful...I can feel your heart beating..” she moaned out slipping her mouth over him. 

With a wild grin his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he held her head with both hands and thrusted into her mouth. 

“Such a good girl...Yes...yes my...my perfect little...Mummy.....” he orgasmed and it mostly got on Ameila’s chest and lips. 

She looked at him. 

“Sir...you....Just called me..”

His eyes went wide. There was no response. Just an odd frown on his handsome face. 

...


	7. Chapter 7

“ A slip of the tongue, Darling...R-really. I promise that’s all it was.” Alan said holding her from behind. 

She sat there in disbelief. 

“...You’re right...just means you..feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable with me..” she said rationalizing this. 

He nodded and smiled. “Of course..Now..we’re did we leave off? Hmm?” He asked pulling her back to him. He kissed her and moaned into her mouth gently. With a soft groaning. Gently bumping against her leg. 

“Do you want Sir to fill you up again?...Make Consummate our beautiful union as man and wife?” He purred into her ear. 

A knock came to the door. He rose up and Side-eyed it. He shrugged and laid back down. Bringing her close and kissing her repeatedly. 

He ignored the knocking. If it was important they would come back. 

“Am I...really your second wife?..” she asked him looking up at him. 

“I wouldn’t say second...I would say...consort wife....I have one for procreation and one for sex...God loves me that much..” he chuckled out. Running a hand down the front of her body. 

He lowered himself down and rubbed his nose against hers. She gently pet at his chest hair. 

The knocking came again. Alan sighed. He got out of bed and looked through his bag to get his robe. He shrugged it over his shoulders. 

He kissed her once and smiled. “Don’t go anywhere.” He beeped her nose. 

He closed the front of it and made an angry face. 

He opened the door. 

“What?” 

“Oh. It’s resort custom to give the bride roses, Sir. Is she available?” The attendant asked. 

Alan rejected them. “No. She isn’t. Come back in 8 hours...Bring her something BLUE. Where we come from, Red Roses are offensive.” He slammed the door in his face. 

He shrugged off his robe and ran back to Amelia and jumped into bed with her. 

He chuckled and brought her close to him. 

“Who was it?” She said gently nuzzling him. Nestling into the crook of his neck. He gently stroked her face. 

“No one important.” He kissed her gently. Wrapping his arms around her , cherishing the comforting feeling of her breasts pressed against him. He gently kissed her cheek and then neck. 

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him so tightly. She was whimpering with need into his ear. 

“Ooh. My poor little new wife. You’re so excited aren’t you?...” he purred into her ear. 

She nodded. A tear falling down her cheek. Alan was going to milk this for all it was worth. 

He moved her ontop of him. 

He smiled up at her and pulled her close to him. 

He could never get enough of this. He kissed her gently, calling her his little wife over and over again. Each time saying it made her whimper and moan. Those blue eyes lighting up every time she made noise. 

After a very intense love-making session she laid there ontop of him and he hummed with approval. Gently raking his fingers around her scalp. “Mm...So it’s a done deal..” he looked at her wedding ring on her hand. She had since retreated to his shoulder. Shutting her eyes. She murmured and half-consciously kissed his neck over and over. 

He gently kissed her lips. “You must be tired...” he said surpringly gentle. “...You can sleep a little, Darling. Come now..” he said pulling the covers up over them. Holding an almost sleeping Amelia against his chest. Wrapped up and safe with him. He kissed her forehead. 

Staring down at her. Softly whispering. 

“Sweet little, Mummy....” into her ear. Causing her to tense a little in her sleep. This resulting in a chuckle from him. 

....  
She was softly singing “West End Girls” in the shower the next day. Alan happily listened to her as he read his paper. 

“Wait. What am I doing?” He said throwing down his paper and immediately shedding his robe to join Amelia. 

She stopped singing and gave out a gentle laugh when he came in with her. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Neil Tennant. I didn’t mean to interrupt your recording session. Nice tits though..” he grinned and brought her close to him. 

She kissed him and hugged him tightly. 

“I’m so glad I came here..” 

“So am I darling and I’m also glad we stayed here last night!” He chuckled. 

The week was filled with horse racing, vineyards and silent auctions. It was a lovely trip. Alan thought this was even better than his actual honeymoon. They would eat in their room, far away from prying eyes. And also just relax and enjoy each others company on their covered deck. Amelia was nicely settled on-top of Alan in a lounge chair, his arm protectively around her. Fingers nimbly fiddling with the side of her bikini bottoms. 

Amelia felt him sneak that hand into her bottoms and raised her large dark sunglasses up and looked at her reflection in Alan’s aviators. He simply smirked.   
“What?..I’m not allowed in there?” He asked playfully pursing his lips. 

“You are...just...I’m in awe I suppose.” She said shifting so her warm, toned belly was pressed against his. Both of his hands came to rest on her rear. Squeezing gently. 

“Most people are, when it comes to me.” Alan said. Moving his hands moving to rest behind his head. 

“Not just of you...but of here and..I...I know...I’m not really married to you but ..it feels real.” She said. Sitting up looking down at her ring. 

He lifted up his glasses to look at her. Those blue eyes cutting through her. 

“Darling...We are spiritually wed. We just can’t be public with it because the ordinaries wouldn’t understand ..that -I- a an exceptional specimen of man am entitled to as many wife’s as I want.” he smirked. Reaching foreword to tug off her top. Tossing it to the side, lowering those glasses down. Amelia gently leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, leaning in to kiss him. 

That evening they had dinner in their dining room. Amelia was wearing a green strapless cocktail dress and Alan was wearing a white dinner jacket. This was their last night here and he wanted it to be special. He had loaned her one of Sarah’s Diamond necklaces. Her hair was also slightly curled. She looked exquisite. 

Alan poured her wine for her. A 1947 Prieur Montrachet. He sat and toasted. 

“To us, My Darling...To our future..” he said reaching forward and clinking glasses.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied sexual content.   
> TW: Guns and gunfire.

“Here here.”She grinned and sipped softly. 

“Oh that’s lovely..So crisp..” she said tasting it. 

“At £1000 a bottle it’d better be.” He said sipping softly. 

He sat down and looked at her. Oh if only fate hadn’t been so cruel. She would be a perfect Tory wife. She would actually worship him and support him. Unlike Sarah. But..fate tends to be kind as well. He wouldn’t have even met her if it wasn’t for his position as an MP. 

This had been a lovely trip. Amelia had some color to her skin and would look amazing for her shoot. 

She was completely devoted to him. He now had no worry about that. 

Just as he was preparing to give this trip the proper send off: By pulling Amelia into his naked lap. Gunshots were heard outside. 

They both looked to the window and Alan rolled his eyes. He gave the motion of “ it’s fine we’re safe keep going.” And promptly went to kissing her. He turned out the light and slid down. Moving her ontop of him. 

More gunshots were heard. 

He sighed. 

“..Normally I like executions but this is ridiculous... just..ignore it Darling..hmm?” 

“...What if they’re right outside?...What if they’re here for you?” She asked gasping at his sudden movement that resulted in him being inside of her. He was intent on finishing. 

“Mmm...No one knows we’re here darling...It’s fine. We’re in Italy! It’s probably a mob boss offing someone who didn’t pay protection money...” he kissed her. “You worry too much..Just relax..” he kissed her and happily sighed pulling the covers up over them both. 

Just then the glass patio door broke. They both screamed in terror. Amelia brought up the covers further to hide herself. 

“Where is the money?!” Two armed men pointed pistols at them. 

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Alan asked keeping a firm grip on Amelia. 

“The money you owe to our boss. We demand it!” 

“You’re in debt to the mob?!” Amelia asked 

“No! For God’s sake do you even KNOW who’s Villa you’re in?!” Alan asked turning in the light. 

They looked shocked. 

“Oh. Oh we’re so sorry, Sir. We are looking for Vice President Bush.” 

Alan rolled his eyes. “He’s next door. And do be quiet about it!...I’m trying to enjoy my lovely young wife..” Alan said gently petting her bottom. 

He closed his eyes when he felt her relax and stop clenching around him. 

One of the armed men put a silencer on his gun. 

“Of course. Our appologies, Senor.” 

“There’s a chap. Off you go.” He said turning the light back off. Gently kissing Amelia. 

“Where were we?..Ah...yes we were just at the good part...” he chuckled moving to lay down. 

“Have you enjoyed this, Sweetheart?..” he asked her. She could see his grin in the dark. 

“..Yes. It’s been lovely..but what will life be like once we get back to Westminster?..”

“It won’t be different..You’ll just have that security now...feeling that ring on a chain between your tits will be your constant reminder...that you’re mine..forever..” he said pulling her down to deeply kiss him. Disappearing into him, dissolving into a pool of sheer warm submissive clay at his touch. 

Nearly forgetting she was wearing her arm brace. 

...

She was back to work same as always. Until. A packet was slipped in under the Antechember’s door. Amelia and Piers were the only ones here. Amelia struggled but she beat the heavy gentry to it. 

She opened it and gasped. There must have been over 10 thousand pounds in it. She held it close to her and didn’t know what to do. 

“I say, Miss Chesterfield. Are you alright?” He asked walking toward her. She quickly put the packet in Alan’s desk. 

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just getting back to work after some time off is always taxing..”she said looking worried. 

What was this money? Did she forget something? 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Just...wait till Sir gets back. It’ll be okay. Just don’t let anyone near that desk..

Piers went near that desk. 

“Mr.Fletcher-Dervish!!....What are you doing?!” She stood up and walked to him. 

“I’m just getting a throat lozenge. I know Alan always keeps some in his desk.” He said going for the drawer the money was in. She slapped his hand. 

“You can’t go in there!..” she said looking worried. 

“Why not?...” he asked. 

“There is a good reason for that...and...oh because he’s right there!” She pointed behind him and when he looked she quickly took the envelope out and put it down the front of her dress. 

“There’s no one there!” Piers said astonished.

“Must be sunstroke..” she sat down and sighed as Piers retrieved the damned lozenge. Relieved. The envelope was safely tucked into her panty hose. She saw him come in and smiled happily. “Hello Sir, Welcome back..” she said happily. 

“Hello, Dear. Any calls?” He asked. “Yes, but not from anyone important.” She said smirking. She leaned over and whispered there was something stuck in her dress that he needed to get.” He smirked thinking she was kidding. “I’d quite agree!..Perhaps after we’re on the floor..so good that you’re going to be in the gallery again..” he stroked her chin. 

“No. I’m serious!...I...need help. I can’t..get it out it’s..I’m pretty sure it’s stuck!” She whispered. 

“What is it?” He asked very confused. 

“It’s an envelope with over 10,000 pounds inside.” She whispered back. 

His eyes went wide and looked to Piers. 

“....Piers. You won’t believe it. Walt Disney is in London and he’s downstairs giving autographs. You’d better hurry if you want one!” 

“Oh!! He can sign my lunchbox!!” He said grabbing the neon red box and running out of the antechamber. 

“Desk, Ammy.” He said as she sat on his desk. He unzipped the back of it and pulled the lilac fabric off of her. It was down the side of her leg. Wedged in between her skin and the nylon. Alan chuckled teaching his hand in. 

“I think I know what this might be..” 

“He almost found it. I had to yell at him to not go in your desk..” she said as he pulled the envelope out. Counting the money quickly. 

“300,000....my horses..” he smirked putting it inside his jacket. Amelia pulled her dress back up a bit but was halted. He smirked seeing her wedding ring on the chain carefully hidden in her cleavage. He plucked the trinket out and kissed it. Placing it back in. She quickly kissed him and walked with him to the commons floor after he zipped the back of it up. 

“What are you talking about today, Sir?” She asked her heels clicking along with the very expensive soles of his shoes. 

“Oh, we’re talking about corporate rights today. I’m rather -jazzed- about it.” Alan said, straightening his tie. 

... 

Amelia took the stairs to the gallery and sat at the front to see him. She was thrilled she could just be an observer. 

Alan knew that she would be excited. He was always more than happy to impress her. It made him extremely aroused when she was in the gallery watching him. Her face and posture reflected complete adoration. 

“Mr.Speaker!..”

“Speaker recognizes Mr.B’Stard.” 

“...My friends. I don’t think I need to tell you how important it is to protect British Industry. Our colleagues on the left however believe that our industry makes too much money.” He chortled. “As if that‘s possible. That there should be an equal distribution of wealth. Well my friends do you know what happens when you do that? Quality goes down and demand goes up! If there is no supply for that demand? Our booming economy will be little more than a flicker in the night!” He said to a roaring applause from the right side. He looked up at her. She had her face in her hands, gazing down at him. She perked her shoulders up when he looked at her. 

Alan’s face grew dark when he saw Robert Harrington have the audacity to sit next to her. 

She didn’t even look at him. Alan grinned. 

There’s a good girl. 

This child needed to be dealt with. It was time to act. He would need to call upon his dear friends in the military enlistment department and slip them a few thousand to get rid of this..

Harrington problem. 

Once and for all.


End file.
